Forbidden Lust
by myreligionisyou
Summary: Fourth year. Hermione waits to be taken to the Yule Ball, nervous at the prospect of love.. A love she feels growing in an unexpected place. M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione circled the dormitory. Her flowing, blue silk left a sensual trail in the wake of her footsteps. Soft brown hair fell in ringlets around her collarbones, rigid in the frosty winter air that floated in through the window. She couldn't bare the whispers around her neck, instead tying it up in what she hoped to be an elegant fashion. It was almost 8.00 p.m.

She would be late, that was certain. Fate had played into her hands, and she was torn over her decision to accept Viktor Krum's request to accompany him to the ball. A strong sense of flattery prevailed over her worry that Ron would disapprove. Not one person had shown any interest in her, and although she was only young her mind had matured much past her years. Yet, did she hold any interest in the opposite sex? It was a debatable question, one which she sighed herself to sleep over. In all honesty, she preffered the company of literature to that of ... well, of anyone. Despite this judgement she reached in her thoughts, she had seen how Harry fell over Cho. How Ron blundered over Fleur. Hermione felt desperately alone.

It was the notion of solitude that prompted Hermione into finally leaving her room. She emerged from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady in mere seconds, clutching the folds of the dress at her waist so as not to hinder her fast pace. Nearing the doors of the Great Hall, she forced herself to slow down. A nervous disposition would be worsened by a lack of composure, she scolded herself. She could see no-one but Viktor. Vickor, dressed in a handsome, deep red suit. Their juxtaposing colours would ensure their entrance to be as enthralling as possible.

"Hermy-own" Viktor greeted her, struggling to manouvere his strong accent around her pronounciation. She laughed in reply, a sweet and innocent ripple blooming from her chest. Viktor kissed her hand, and lead her into the Hall. Hermione barely had time to soak in her surroundings; the ceiling dotted with stars, the frost papering the walls and tables. Gracefully, the pair joined the other champions. Hermione blushed once she had realised that every face in the room was turned towards her. She was intoxicating.

She looked into each the souls of each student as she passed them. There was Neville, his mouth open in awe with Ginny who held a huge grin for her. Fred and Angelina, both beaming, and then Seamus and Lavender looking equally confused. Finally, Draco Malfoy, with shallow Pansy gripping his arm as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. They glared at her, Draco's grey eyes intense against the black velvet of his robes.

The dances passed in a blur of colour and swift movement. She didn't speak to Viktor much; it was difficult to hear over the loud noises of The Weird Sisters. She finally sat down to rest, waiting for Viktor to join them with drinks. Ron refused to look over on her arrival. His red hair matched the anger fuming from his eyes. "What on earth is the matter with you, Ronald?" Hermione shot at his sulky form.  
>"Me? What on earth is wrong with you? Fratenising with the enemy, aren't we!" Ron was fired back, turning sharply to face her. He saw Hermione's face crumple with pain, but his jealousy was far stronger than his capacity for forgiveness. They continuted to exchange insults, resulting in Hermione's departure and Harry left trying to console Ron.<p>

Hermione was furious. She covered her emotions with a smile and refused to let the incident ruin her perfect evening. After bidding Viktor good night, she waited outside the doors for Harry and Ron. They were almost last to leave. "What are you waiting for?" Ron spat at her. "Seriously, drop it. You wanted to go with Fleur, didn't you? You had your chance?" Harry warned him, infuriating him considerably more. "You think I'm jealous? Do you?" Hermione and Harry both stared at him. They had both realised by now he needed time to cool down. Hermione could feel her heart growing heavy. "I would never be jealous of an oaf like him! She didn't even look special tonight. She was only stared at for being with him! He only took you to get information from you about his competition!" Ron pushed past her. Harry gave her hand a fleeting squeeze, left her with a passing look. She was alone again.

Conflicting emotions chased themselves around her mind. She fell to the floor. The only light flickered from two torches left alight on the walls and she could see she was alone. Here, she allowed herself to shed tears. Here, on the cold stone floor she poured her heart onto desperate thoughts.  
>"Granger?" A smooth voice filled her ears and at once, she was alert. A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, lean.. and blonde. "Shove off, Malfoy." She wiped a hand across her face, feeling the shame spreading to rosy her cheeks. "What are you doing on the floor?" His usually accusatory tone was replaced by an unfamiliar touch of care. "I'm in no mood for games. I'm sure you remember how heavily I can push my fist into your face from last year, so I suggest you leave me alone." "But violent Hermione is my favourite." Draco joked with her.<br>"What did you just call me?" She was suspicious. He sat down beside her, close enough for her to count the eyelashes lining his suddenly warm eyes. "Violent Hermione?" He replied, "Do you think I can make it catch on?" Draco laughed. It was a surprising change from the sneer she was so well aquainted with. She instantly warmed to him.  
>"Should you not be with your date?" Hermione all but spat out the last word. The moment the sentence slipped from her lips, she was confused. Was this jealousy that emanated from her bones? Draco's face returned to a mask, steel and unyielding. "We had a disagreement. I was taking leave for some fresh air." "After that, I thought you'd find me easy prey. Something to throw your anger at." Again, she was surprised. Words like that rarely entered the sancituary of Hermione's own imagination, let alone opened to an enemy. Ron's previous statement about fraternising with the enemy returned to her like a sharp sting. Again, Hermione found herself blushing.<p>

She was unusually weak, and Draco's eyes burned into her mind, leaving her delicate and uncertain. "We don't have to talk. It's nice to share in someone else's company from time to time." Draco turned away from her, staring into the dark depths of the castle. Hermione was perplexed at the turn of events. An overthinker by nature, she could not explain why this slippery Slytherin boy would take the time to talk sensibly with a book-loving Gryffindor. Perhaps she was only paranoid, but she could have sworn on Merlin that the conversation would be deemed as flirting. Her head hurt from the different explanations, so she surrendered to a calm silence.

Minutes passed. Hermione was leaning on the stone wall, a chill beginning to seep through her dress. Draco turned towards her. He seemed torn between speaking, and instead leaned towards her. She felt her heart begin to race. She wanted to say so many things; she wasn't ready, she still regarded him as her enemy and in fact, didn't even like him. At all. Her body spoke in contrast to her mind. She leaned to meet him, her eyes already closed. Expecting a joke, she began to worry when his soft lips met hers. A slow, sweet kiss. Her first kiss. Her first kiss, with her deadly enemy. She wanted to pull away, but she was transfixed by Draco. Her hands were shaking, when he reached forward to brush her face, pulling her closer. His free arm drew in her waist, leaving Hermione shivering. The kiss grew in intensity, until their tongues were fighting for dominance and Hermione felt a small whimper escape. Draco broke away, leaving her one last lingering kiss before swiftly leaving.

No words. No explanation. Just one heavily breathing girl left in a tangle of emotions (Ron? Viktor? Draco?) wearing a ruffled dress pulled up past her knees.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione,

Not speaking to you is tearing me apart. This letter has been written and re-written so many times...I was never good with words. Not like you are. Your intellect is what interests me most. As a Malfoy, I hold many traits and pride is one I hold dear to my heart. Unfortunately, regarding schooling the only lesson I am at all good at is potions. You are under a promise not to tell anyone that of course, I can't have my reputation tarnished. Just kidding.

I'm undecided as to what I want to say to you. I want to tell you so many things; I want you to know that your intensity is not only attractive and alluring but enticing, and your personality so complex I cannot seem to figure you out. What did that kiss mean? Did it even happen? I've spent so many nights unable to sleep, turning the events of the Yule Ball in my mind until I'm unsure what is fact and what is fiction.

If anything, I want you to understand that I am not the Draco Malfoy that everyone else sees. I may be shallow (perhaps a complement to yourself, also?) and extremely proud, selfish and slightly prejudiced, a few months of self discovery have also told me I want more for myself than this name.

I want to see you.

Draco.

Hermione stood, resting against the smooth wood of her kitchen cabinet. She was, understandably, nervous. Brown hair tickled her open shoulders, enhancing the subtle tones of her floral summer dress. The middle of July allowed her to dress daintily despite the prickling heat of the evening sun. She had recived Draco's letter two weeks prior to this moment – a well-written letter, she had to say, especially in comparison with the ones she usually received from Harry and Ron. It had taken her days to decide on her reply. Draco had ignored her for the remaining school year. Although the taunts had subsided, she had hoped for any contact at all. She finally convinced herself that the night had never happened, that she had simply gone straight to bed once the end of the dance had come around. And now, anxiety had found a faithful friend in Hermione.

Through the doubt, she realised she wanted to see him. Needed to see him, perhaps. It was all very confusing. Putting her mind to rest, she replied that her parents would be out of town soon. If he wanted to see her, he could travel to her house for the weekend, and that was all. He was not to contact her for the summer (she would be leaving for Grimmauld Place in a matter of days, however, she was not to mention this to Draco). He had replied quickly. "I will be there."

And so, here she was. Hermione felt a breeze stroke her cheek through the open window, and turned to see a taxi cab pull up in front of her small house. For a moment, she felt a brief stab of shame. Surely, Draco must be used to fancier homes? She shook away the feeling, remembering she only wanted to discuss what happened. It was in her nature to calculate facts, to analyse ideas. She had to know, and that is all there was to their meeting. Or so she thought, as she watched a blonde head emerge from the car, sun reflecting on the almost white hair. Draco looked towards the house, straight through the glass window and into her eyes. Grey meeting brown. Hermione was frozen, until Draco uncharacteristically smiled. A smile to melt the ice she had felt forming in her bones.

Hermione walked around to open the door, slowly, forcing her mind into a state of stability. Draco stood on the doorstep in his usual black trousers and shirt, the sleeves folded up to his elbows to reveal the pale skin beneath. A backpack was slung carelessly over his right shoulder, and his hair was abnormally messy. His look was uncontrolled, and Hermione was instantly attracted to his attitude.

"I told my parents I was staying with a school friend. You wouldn't believe the amount of questions I was subjected to! Urgh. Also, there is a reason why I've never used muggle transport before – it smells positively filthy!" Hermione instantly remembered her reasons for his arrival with this arrogant tone. She took a step backwards, just in time for Draco to flash perfectly white teeth into that melting smile.

"Sorry. It's so good to see you." Draco apologised. When Hermione made no move to speak, Draco leaned forward. He brushed one hand against her cheek, pulling her in to a warm kiss. Hermione was shocked, and instead of breaking the kiss she softed into his arms. After a few moments, Draco moved away, the air between them thick with awkward tension.

"I made us dinner." Hermione managed to stutter out. "It's pasta. Unfortunately, I'm not as great in the kitchen as I am in the classroom."

"I feel sorry for your future husband" Draco laughed.

"On to the sexist jokes already, I see. You sure know how to win over a girl." Hermione smiled in return. Even though Draco's joke went far beyond all of her morals, she appreciated his capacity to be comedic, something she didn't expect. She was enjoying learning new things about someone she never believed she'd be interested in.

After dinner – superbly cooked, Hermione even surprised herself – and a shared bottle of her parents wine, the couple were becoming comfortable with each other. Both giggling and joking, they cleaned up and decided on sitting on the patio table in the garden, watching the evening sky turn from blue to orange tinged pink while the summer sun set.

"Be honest. Why did you write to me?" Hermione asked Draco.

"I couldn't tell you. I don't know. Something about you is so different to all the other girls."

"Well, you're only really acquainted with Pansy... it's not as if she's very deep, is it?" Hermione watched as his face turned from party offensive to broken with laughter.

"Who's the joker now?" Draco's face become serious. "Why did you invite me?"

"I guess I couldn't tell you. I wanted to understand why you kissed me." Hermione could feel the warmth of the alcohol in her stomach giving her a sense of confidence she had never before found.

"I barely understand myself. It was as if I was watching myself from a distance, and had no control over the events that happened." Draco reached for Hermione's hand. "I don't regret that kiss." Hermione realised that for once, she could not answer the reasons behind her twisted relationship with Draco. If you could call it a relationship. For the moment, she was free. She had no control. She was a cloud drifting through stormy winds toward an inevitable crash of thunder, and she wanted to enjoy it before Draco was dragged from her outstretched hands.

Draco stood up. Then, he bent over Hermione, cupping his hands behind her back and underneath her legs to pick her up. She could feel his tensed arms around her. She felt surreal. In silence, Draco carried Hermione up the stairs of her house and into her room without her directing him. They were floating on luck tonight. He released her onto the bed, and when she sat up he pressed her shoulders back onto the layers of white cover. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione was pulling him against her, pushing her mouth onto his. She wasn't herself. There was no space in her mind for anything but the feeling of Draco's lips, his hands. She was unbuttoning his shirt, almost ripping the buttons off. Her hands searched over his chest, around his ribs and spread out over his back. Draco parted her legs with his own while she tore his shirt from his shoulders. Hermione had never felt this way before. She was passionate, she was an exaggerated picture of lust and longing. Draco was overwhelmed by her reaction to his kisses.

"Hermione," he gasped, "Hermione, we don't have to do anything."

"Don't try to control me." Hermione pushed into his arm, turning him onto his back and straddling him. Her hair was fire, falling in waves around her flushed cheeks.

"I promise I'm not. I just don't want to you to regret this evening. I don't know what I'd do if you ignored me all year. I can't handle not having you."

"Then have me." Hermione was softened by his sweet words, but not enough to calm the flames licking her body. Draco, however, seemed to be encouraged by her words, whispered in a husky tone into his ear. He reached under her dress, into her underwear. Inside, his head screamed nervously. Draco was scared. His emotions didn't translate on his actions though, as he reached further until he could feel the wet folds of Hermione. He rubbed her clitoris cautiously, but her heavy moaning urged him on, towards her opening. Hermione anticipated the entrance. Her whole body wanted it, and she dug her nails into Draco's arms to hurry him. He entered. She only felt a small discomfort, and then bliss as he worked his fingers, pumping them in and out of her wetness. He was unexperienced, but searched until he found her spot. Hermione gasped, her legs slightly shaking as she moved with his hand, making her climax come quicker and heavily. Draco gave her on final stroke before pulling his hand out. Hermione collapsed on his chest. She looked up into those intense, grey eyes. A thousand words spoken in the silence that passed. She felt free.


End file.
